


Dear Miasma

by Bihet_trendrr



Category: Epithet Erased (Cartoon)
Genre: And That’s Okay, Childhood Friends, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Like really slow, M/M, Other, Slow Burn, Sylvie still moves away tho. F, and you both accidentally become attached by the hip, choldhood friends to lovers, emotional support children, sometimes the loner in your second grade class stands up for you and you go to befriend him, the chapters with that kinda content will be tagged with a warning, this is just like “what if Sylvie got one (1) friend as a kid”, very self indulgent, warning for uhhh mild emotional abuse and transphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23706226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bihet_trendrr/pseuds/Bihet_trendrr
Summary: A story in which Sylvie gets to have exactly one friend growing up.Collin Binh Miasma is definitely not someone you would expect to befriend Sylvester Ashling of all people. He’s abrasive and quiet and cold and distant and seemingly nobody can get him to really engage with them on a personal level. So why is Sylvie different?
Relationships: Sylvester "Sylvie" Ashling & Giovanni Potage, Sylvester "Sylvie" Ashling & Molly Blyndeff, Sylvester "Sylvie" Ashling & Molly Blyndeff & Giovanni Potage, Sylvester "Sylvie" Ashling & Original Character(s), Sylvester "Sylvie" Ashling/Original Character(s), Sylvester “Sylvie” Ashling & Dirk Chappy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	Dear Miasma

**Author's Note:**

> I know oc fanfics aren’t exactly everyone’s cup of tea, and I definitely know not everyone’s a fan of oc x canon shit, but I’m begging you to please give this a chance :’3

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Miasma.” A peppy old woman with greying hair stands up from her desk and reaches over to shake hands with his mom. His mother takes the woman’s hand and shakes it gently. She sits down, and after a moment, nudges him in the side to get him to sit down beside her. He rocks back and forth in the chair, looking around the room.

It’s plain. Really plain, a lifeless beige room with only a couple of photos hung up of the staff and some mandatory filing cabinets. His eyes flicker down to her desk, looking from the cup filled with pens and pencils to the name plate set front and centre.

Miss Pepper. That’s a hilariously coincidental name. He snuffs, finally letting his eyes rest on his lap. His knees are all scratched up, with colourful bandaids messily stuck on the scrapes to keep them from getting infected. Those bandaids have got to be the brightest things in the room right now.

“It’s lovely to meet you as well, Ms. Pepper. And please, call me Bian.”

He refrains himself from snickering at the look on the woman’s face as she tries to figure out how to say his mother’s name.

“So, erm...” She pauses for a moment. “Bian. Please, tell me more about your daughter here.”

Ouch. The word feels like a sucker punch to the gut. Face scrunching up slightly, he looks away and allows himself to tune them out. He finds himself staring out the gigantic windows they put on the doors.

Kids. Tons of them. Loads more than he’s ever seen in his own neighborhood. Some look like giants compared to him.

A couple of boys are yelling and laughing in the hallway. One of them takes a running start and leaps, smacking the doorframe to the staircase. A teacher then pokes her head out of the classroom, shouting at them to settle down. They mumble something, and walk away.

If he leans back a little, he can catch sight of another group of kids playing some sort of game in the hallway. The devices they’re using look a lot like his DS. He wonders to himself if there’ll be any other kids that like Pokémon.

Oh, crud, his chair’s falling. He quickly leans forwards, the front legs of the chair slamming hard against the floor. His mother, who was in the middle of speaking, suddenly snaps her head towards him with a sharp glare. If looks could kill, he would most certainly be dead by now. Getting the gist of it, he shrinks down in his chair and fixes his eyes on the floor.

“Now where was I? Ah, yes..” His mother resumes speaking, and he instantly starts tuning them out. He can’t go back to looking outside again, that’s for sure, but by the same token, he can’t bring himself to be bothered listening to them talk about dumb stuff that he couldn’t even pretend to care about.

His knees. He chooses to focus on his knees, all scratched up and bruised.

He’s a rough and tumble kind of kid, who climbs trees and plays in mud and picks up whatever tiny creatures he can find. It absolutely drives his mother insane, and she loses it every time he comes home with some frog he found bouncing around in the backyard. His dad doesn’t seem to mind though, and listens to him talk for hours about the mischief he got up to in his free time.

He likes hanging out with his dad more.

Last summer, his dad bought him a “baby’s first bug hunting kit” and he spent most of his time catching spiders in the little plastic container the kit came with so he could watch them fight each other to the death. Is it a little messed up? Maybe. But god, it was one of the best summers he ever had. Some of the other kids in his neighbourhood even came by to watch the bloodbath.

His mom caught him staging one of the spider fights one day, simply looked at him in disgust, and went back inside. She later gave him a lecture on how “unladylike” his behaviour was. As though he gave a shit about that.

Point is, he’s a rowdy kid. And that rowdiness shone through last week, when he was rollerblading around his street. One of the older kids spotted him and invited him to come with them to another road nearby, that was at a slant. Being six, and incredibly stupid, he agreed to go immediately. Long story short, once he started rolling he couldn’t stop, and his skates hit a rock while he was speeding down, and he was sent skidding on the pavement. Miraculously, he somehow managed to not get too beat up by the incident, only ending up with some cuts and bruises on his hands, elbows, and knees.

The older kids took him home and his dad absolutely smothered him with attention, much to his mother’s chagrin. She complained about her husband “coddling their child too much” and went on and on about how it was his fault for agreeing to do something so reckless in the first place. His dad ignored her, though, and he spent the rest of the night making sure his injured child was okay. Embarrassing, definitely, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate the attention.

His dad took him out to pick out some bandaids the second he noticed they were out. He was quick to pick the brightly coloured ones, and he couldn’t help but grin the entire time he was in the checkout line.

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, but the smile’s quick to fall when he suddenly tunes back in.

“..One last thing we need to know before you leave. Is your child inscribed in any way, shape, or form?”

His mother glances down at him, then back at the woman, and shakes her head. “No, not that we’re aware of yet.”

Ms. Pepper writes something down on her clipboard— when did she pull that out? —and nods. “Alright, that should be all! Thank you so much for taking the time to come in today. It was wonderful meeting both of you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” His mother smiles as she stands, and the two of them shake hands again. He gets up from his chair, and his mother places a hand on his back, ushering him out of the room. Just outside is a boy with strawberry blond hair, standing there with his parents. The two of them make eye contact as he’s lead towards the front door, and he keeps his gaze locked on the boy until they’re outside.

He climbs into his seat and gets himself buckled up, watching as his mother gets into her own spot and starts up the car. She slowly backs out of the parking lot, turning down the road and driving off.

“I’m very disappointed in your behaviour today. I certainly hope you don’t behave like that while you’re in your classes. Do you understand?”

He doesn’t care. He really doesn’t. But he can’t just say that to her. So instead he opts to just mumble out a “Yes, mom.”

“Honestly, sometimes, you embarrass me.” She continues to lecture, but he’s already tuned her out again. Leaning against the glass of his window, he stares at the scenery outside as it zooms past him.

He’s going to start school soon.


End file.
